


PB & J

by GalahadWilder



Series: Miraculous Drabbles [16]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-06-02 10:36:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19439728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalahadWilder/pseuds/GalahadWilder
Summary: Adrien realizes he's more in love with Marinette than he thought.





	PB & J

Adrien Agreste was absolutely, utterly screwed. Marinette laughed, her whole face bright, shining, her eyes closing at the force of it, and he felt the bottom drop out of his heart.

 _’Just a friend,’ my ass,_ he thought. _How long have I been in love with her?_

“Oh my god,” she giggled, shoving him in the shoulder. “You’re AWFUL.”

“Thank you, thank you,” he said with a mock bow—or as close to a bow as he could get while sitting on a park bench. “I’ll be here all week.” He patted the bench. “Right here. On this bench.”

She smiled again, turning away, and it was like seeing the sun dip beneath the horizon; he was suddenly cast in darkness, and he could feel his heart unfurling towards her like the petals of a flower in springtime, desperate to drink up her light, to be bathed in the glow she cast everywhere she went.

She looked up at him through her lashes, shy, and he melted. For a moment, he forgot all about Ladybug, about Hawkmoth, about Chat Noir and the perfect model Adrien Agreste. For a moment, all that existed was the endless sky of her irises, and he was flying.

This girl… this lovely, amazing, kind, generous girl… had given him second chances, treated him like a human being, cared for him when no one else would. When his father was emotionally miles away, his Lady was focused on the job, Marinette and Nino had been there. And Nino… well, Nino’s friendship was a quiet, calm thing, a rock to stand on when the storm was raging. Marinette’s was energy and hope, like filling the holes in his heart with everything that she was.

How could he have thought she was just a friend? How could he have been so blind?

“Adrien?” she asked. “Are you okay?”

No. He wasn’t. His whole world was tilting on its axis, and all he could think about was her lips, soft and pink and inviting, and he thought about how it they would feel on his, what she would taste like, whether the jelly croissant she’d been eating would flavor her breath. He couldn’t breathe, because she’d taken up the air, and all he wanted was to bring the taste of her into his lungs. He sat, paralyzed by doubt and by the decorum drilled into him by his father and his directors. What if she didn’t feel the same way?

“Adrien?”

Fuck decorum.

His hand was on her cheek, his lips on hers, and for a moment he exulted in the sunlight that filled his brain, his heart, his LUNGS. She was everywhere, and he was drowning in her.

Then she pulled away, and the moment broke, and he realized what he’d done.

“Oh god.” He grabbed his head with both hands. “Marinette I’m so sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking, I shouldn’t have just…”

She laid a finger against his lips. “Shhh! Shush.”

His eyes narrowed. “Wha…?”

“Shush!” she yelped. “I just… I need a minute. Okay?”

“Oh.” Well, shit. Well done, Adrien! In one second he’d ruined a friendship he’d spent a year building, just because of a stupid whim—

She breathed, steadying herself. “Okay, I’m… I think I’m good,” she said. “That was… surprising.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that, I was—“

“I never said it was unwelcome.”

Adrien’s train of thought screeched to a halt, tossing his neurons about like unprepared subway passengers. “You what?”

Marinette smiled, glancing down. “I’ve been…” She breathed in, she breathed out. “I’ve been pining after you for the better part of a year, Adrien.”

“…oh.” Oh. OH!

She trailed a hand along his jawline. “You taste like peanut butter,” she murmured. Then she held up her croissant. “Want to finish the sandwich?”

“What?”

She took a bit of the jelly croissant and smiled. “Kiss me, you dork,” she said.

“Gladly,” he said, wrapping his arms around her waist.

She was right—they DID taste like a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.


End file.
